My Mother

I really miss my mother. Tomorrow I'm going to the farmer's market to buy stuff to make supper for Sunday evening. I haven't had supper but three or four times since I've been here. Sure I've eaten dinner, and lunched, and supped, but I haven't had supper. Supper is what we eat at home; in the good ol' South where I was raised and where I'll die. [If I have anything to say about it of couse.]

As I was writtin' the email to the Global Domination Club settin' the official date and time of our Penultimate Battle of the Universe for Sunday Evenin' at 7:00 pm. See, we have a group of us here who sort of play what we call "Personal Engagement Risk". {I think I've mentioned this before.) And see, I've decided I was going to cook supper for everyone involved. Mostly because when I cook, it reminds me of home.

Home just isn't McAllen where my parents are, but also Abilene - the last place I called home. I remember all the fun times I had with my friends and crew there. I cooked many a meal for them. Perhaps I should take the advice of a dear friend: "Make this your home, while you're here." I could try.

But as I get ready to go to bed [actually I have another couple hours to go] I decided to make my list for tomorrow. I realized how much I miss my mama. I miss antique stores, and home-made ice cream, and HGTV. I miss learning to make dolls, and needlepoint, and doiles. I miss porkchops with apple sause and bread pudding and fried chicken and potatoes. I miss music at the crack of dawn in Elementary School to wake me up and I miss watching Rachel Ashwell.

I'll never be as good at running a house and workin' as my mama, or as good at being a mom, but I'll sure try. Clean house, good food from scratch, crisp clothes, good table setting, and a big smile. And of course, a good prayer before the good eatin'.

This Sunday supper is for you mama - just like you taught me.